


We Sync

by polarized_light



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Abuse from the SQUIP, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Michael Has a Squip, Gen, More characters are in this but I'll add them once they actually show up, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, Recreational Drug Use, Squip science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polarized_light/pseuds/polarized_light
Summary: The plan failed so miserably. Michael couldn't help but blame himself-- maybe got a little too high before he went to save Jeremy, or maybe he wasted too much time from getting lost. After all, blaming himself was the best way to distract himself from a more haunting idea. Maybe these supercomputers actually live up to their name, and maybe they all are super screwed, especially him.Still, Michael refuses to accept this. Because of this, he becomes closer to Jeremy than either of them ever bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

The backpack slammed against Michael’s back every time his racing feet hit the floor, with the ruby elixir of the gods splashing around from within.

All this time suffering in loneliness could finally end, and it could even mean something by showing Jeremy just how important their friendship was and how fighting through life together was always better. Michael pushed aside the lesson he tried to convince himself of when he was alone, which was something about how he only needed himself. Sure, all he needed was himself, he guessed, but the only thing that loneliness taught him was that life was so much better with Jeremy in it.

Adrenaline surged through his veins as he surged through the mini hall like lightning. Thunder always follows lightning, and that thunder was a Michael slamming into a closed door.

The hit from the door was a harsh reminder that he didn’t actually win Jeremy back yet, and that it was never going to happen if he kept getting lost in the entire area behind the backstage like some.... some dumbass. Well, he might as well open the door he just slammed into, just in case it led to anything.

The anticipation of reconciliation battled against the fear of facing rejection again as he spun the metal knob. Fear won, which is why his aching shoulders relaxed when the room revealed itself to be full of props but devoid of people. He flipped on the lights, despite the vacancy, and stumbled through a flood of old props.

Just a moment later, Michael resisted the urge to disown himself.

 _This is stupid!_ Michael thought. _Why the hell would Jeremy hide behind a prop in the darkest and sketchiest room in existence during his recital? What did I expect to happen-- that he would pop up and exclaim, “Woo! You got me!” before snatching the Mountain Dew Red from my hands and gulping it down? God._

Michael subsequently noted that accepting a critical mission after smoking a joint and then actually doing it right away might be beyond stupid after all. He also realized that this was the first time it occurred to him that this was a terrible idea, and not all the times when he got lost before this. Jeremy had his SQUIP for months. It’s not like taking a couple hours to sober up would make a difference, right?

His thoughts got cut off when a blunt force knocked the breath out of his throat.

“MICHAEL!” Jenna Rolan shouted into his ear.

He supposed this is what he got for sneaking through a random entrance to get backstage instead of hopping directly on the stage mid performance, like a practical person.  
  
Jenna and him exchanged maybe five words since they attended school together, which is why he was confused that one: she knew his name; and two: she was holding him in a headlock. Unless this was normal. Whenever he got too high, he stopped being able to tell if something was normal or not. His best friend’s dad jumping on his porch without any pants on? People shouting at him from a car on his way here? A girl he barely knew holding him hostage in a prop room? Evil computer pills from Japan possessing his friend that can only be deactivated with a discontinued 80s soft drink? He had no clue anymore.  
  
“Oh, hey, Jenna! What’s up?” Michael sarcastically greeted back.  
  
"I'm doing great! I thought performing would be stressful... but it's not!" Jenna earnestly raved.  
  
_"Great!_ Let go of me!"  
  
“Not until you try this!” Jenna urged, as if was about to sell him MLM pyramid scheme merchandise.  
  
A figure zoomed past Michael’s peripheral vision. It ended up being Brooke Lohst, who waved at him with one hand and held an Erlenmeyer flask in the other hand. The flask contained a small amount of regular Mountain Dew and a menacing gray pill sitting at the bottom.

Except, oddly enough, the pill looked more bluish in the liquid, like a wintergreen Tictac. It reminded Michael of how the blood in veins looked blue. Michael wondered if it was because Mountain Dew was the lifeblood of SQUIPs. _But veins look bluish because of an illusion through the skin,_ Michael remembered. _So Mountain Dew is... skin?_

“Hi, Michael,” Brooke Lohst said with an over-saturated sweetness.

Michael would have almost been happy for the interruption from his weird and frankly disgusting thought process if her glassy and bloodshot eyes didn’t creepily glance into his soul. He only responded with pulling, clawing, biting, anything at Jenna’s arms to get away. He managed to loosen her hand’s grip on the locking arm, but she fixed it right away and then tightened it even more.  
  
Brooke stepped closer and spoke as if she were reciting a script. “Everyone knows you and Jeremy are going through a rough patch. It’s really sad when best friends break up. You feel lost and empty without them. Even if they deeply wronged you and it still hurts, you want nothing more than their company again.”  
  
“Yeah. I’m about to fix that,” Michael responded dryly.

“Yes!” Brooke cheered. “Yes you are.” She started to bring the flask closer.  
  
“Th-That looks like piss,” Michael stuttered as he jerked his head away. “With Tictacs in it. I’m not drinking it!”  
  
Brooke held the flask up to the fluorescent light. “It’s... not piss.”  
  
“Well whatever you think it is, get it the hell away from me!”  
  
“I thought you liked drugs,” Jenna remarked from behind him.  
  
An empty smile spread upon Brooke’s lips. “I know how you feel. Chloe and I have been fighting every day. Not only did she destroy my self-confidence and trust in others right after I worked so hard to build them up again, but she ignored me while I was crying for the rest of the night. But now she will be my friend again.”  
  
“Do you actually believe any of that?” Michael asked.  
  
There was a pause, and Michael used it to continue wrestling against Jenna’s iron grip.  
  
Something clicked behind Brooke’s eyes and without warning, she slammed the glass rim harshly on his lips. He thanked the lord that his first instinct was to seal his mouth shut.  
  
A metallic taste entered his mouth. Was he already becoming a robot? Did he not seal his mouth enough, letting a drop of Mountain Dew with some of the dissolved angry computer particles get in his mouth? And if it did, was it enough to activate?

Nevermind, that was just blood from his lip.

“Are you friends with us now?” Jenna asked.  
  
He refused to open his mouth to avoid becoming a zombie, but he wish he could because he had so many questions.  
  
_If the SQUIPs were supposed to mend Chloe’s and Brooke’s friendship, then where was Chloe?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Did Chloe have a SQUIP yet?_ _  
_  
Brooke, in frustration, continued to smash the glass flask against his face, spilling some of the sticky neon soda on his hoodie.  
  
_Was the whole cast SQUIP’d? How did that happen?_ _  
_  
“FRIENDS!” Jenna snapped at Michael. “Are we friends now? Yes or no?”  
  
_How many people were infected?_  
_  
_ _Why were the SQUIPs driven to spread themselves like a virus?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Who made them?_  
  
Something changed in Brooke’s eyes again and her face tensed up for a split second. Then, Brooke’s unnaturally still hand moved towards his face. With his eyes widened in abject horror, Michael whipped his head away, but she still managed to clamp his nose shut.  
  
Trying to breathe through a sealed mouth and nose was almost impossible, just as Michael anticipated. The pressure in his lungs grew until it exploded into a gasp.  
  
The moment his mouth opened, Brooke poured the entire contents of the flask at a downward angle, forcing him to swallow the drink. The fizzy citrus soda mingling with blood burned his tongue as it entered his mouth.  
  
Michael’s face went cold once he felt the massive pill get lodged in his throat. He desperately tried to cough it out, but it ended up getting swallowed anyway.  
  
Jenna patted his back as the pill went down. “There, there.”  
  
His stomach felt like it was going to explode, as if the pill was a Mento and his stomach acid was Coke. He touched his numb face with a shaky finger. His arms and legs trembled uncontrollably from the anxiety, so he clumsily placed his hands on a nearby table to support his weight.  
  
“What’s he doing?” Jenna nudged Brooke. “Is he okay?  
  
Brooke responded to her but Michael could not understand it. Every noise started to sound blotted out, as if he were underwater. It felt like he was breathing underwater, too.  
  
He heard a third voice call out to them, and then both girls suddenly left him alone in the room.  
  
In an attempt to calm down, Michael took a deep breath and reminded himself that it takes at least five minutes for SQUIPs to activate. He cautiously removed his backpack, placed it on the dusty table, and then started to unzip it.  
  
Out of nowhere, an overwhelming ringing started to reverberate through his ears and head.  
  
“I... I don’t understand!” he cried as he clasped his hands over his pounding ears. “It’s not supposed to activate right away!”  
  
“And all of the syncing nearby speeds up the process. You did a pretty shitty job at researching,” Jeremy remarked from behind him.  
  
“Jeremy!” Michael exclaimed as he perked up. Despite being in excruciating pain 10 seconds ago, his heart ballooned with happiness. His heart then deflated when he registered how off Jeremy sounded.  
  
That was not Jeremy. Whatever it was, he didn’t dare turn around to see.  
  
Michael reached into his backpack and rummaged through it, finally grabbing the Mountain Dew Red. Right when he started to untwist the cap, he felt a sharp electric shock travel down his spine.  
  
In the panic, a significant amount of the red soda spilled everywhere. A lump swelled in his throat as he quickly rescrewed the cap back on the bottle to salvage what was left.  
  
“Thank god. Are you finally over your pretentious obsession with retro shit?” Jeremy’s voice continued.  
  
Michael stuffed the Mountain Dew Red in the safety of his backpack and zipped the bag up. Without looking behind him, he threw the backpack on his shoulder and sprinted out of the room. He couldn’t risk wasting anymore of this precious remedy. He needed to reach Jeremy or at least reach someone who wasn’t SQUIP’d for help. Anywhere but here. _But hopefully Heere,_ Michael added.

He sprinted down the hall; his head racing as fast as his legs. Countless doors were a blur as he flew past them. Dressing rooms, practice rooms, whatever. They didn’t matter. What mattered was getting to the stage. Jeremy was the male lead-- no matter what, he’d have to be there sometime.  
  
Someone suddenly walked just a few feet front of Michael, making him abruptly brake just before they almost collided.  
  
“What’s your deal? I thought you wanted to be with me again.”

When Michael looked up, he saw Jeremy, except he wasn’t Jeremy. There were bluish circuits running down where his veins should have been.  
  
The two then locked eyes. The eyes were blue just like the real Jeremy’s, but these eyes were unnaturally bright blue, like a crashed computer screen  
  
_You’re not Jeremy,_ Michael seethed.  
  
_Well, as of now, I’m the closest thing you’ll ever get to him,_ the SQUIP replied.  
  
Michael pushed the being away. Unsurprisingly, his hands filtered through the apparition instead of doing anything.  
  
An icy feeling washed over Michael’s face.  He didn’t say that out loud. If it was able to read his thoughts, what else could it access? Did the SQUIP know his unconscious thoughts-- things he didn’t even realize? His next moves? What hope did he have in defeating the SQUIP then?  
  
Or worse: could the SQUIP create new thoughts or manipulate the thoughts that he already had? No, it couldn’t, because Michael instantly promised himself he would never allow that to happen, case closed.

 _I don’t know why you’re running away from me. It’s not like you could. You think I’m over here but I’m in there._ Fake Jeremy jabbed a finger at Michael’s forehead. _The only way you can get me out is if your brain gets splattered into a million chunks. I digress. Anyway, I could give you anything you want. Come ON._  
  
“I want you to deactivate,” Michael demanded.  
  
_That goes against my programming for a reason. And stop talking out loud! You’re going to make everyone think you’re a freak!_  
  
“No.”  
  
Fake Jeremy sighed as it slid its hand down its face. _Jesus, you’re petty. I could give you anything else you want. What do you not get about that?_  
  
Michael walked straight through the SQUIP’s apparition to continue the search for the actual Jeremy.  
  
_I know what you truly want anyway. Or, rather, who,_ Fake Jeremy called out from behind him, despite not actually being behind him.  
  
Enough time was already wasted, so he continued to ignore it.  
  
_Too bad you’re nothing to him. Twelve years of friendship... and he jumped ship as soon as the opportunity came. What does that say? It says that he only put up with you to not be alone._  
  
Michael’s stomach panged because he believed it to be true. Every little bit of it.

Every moment since the fight, he agonized over why. Even though it hurt when Jeremy ignored him before that, knowing it was probably some weird feature from the SQUIP was enough to keep the pain bearable. Barely bearable, but bearable. That all changed after Halloween. That was all Jeremy sans supercomputer, and he HATED Michael. It wasn’t mind control. It wasn’t some kind of ocular blocking. It was Jeremy not wanting anything to do with him anymore.

Nothing else made sense besides what Fake Jeremy said. But even if it was true, it didn't matter. He still had to help his friend, whether if they were still friends or even if they never were truly friends. Otherwise he would never have his best friend again no matter what.

Those words from the SQUIP still stung, though. He bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself. From what Michael gathered via his research, part of a SQUIP’s programming runs on feedback loops. Letting a SQUIP know it was actually affecting you was the worst thing you possibly do.  
  
There was a heavy solid door at the end of the hall, and Michael quietly opened it once he finally reached it. It led to a more open room that had battered couches and some refreshments sitting on top makeshift tables. One table was different, though. A two liter Mountain Dew and a shoebox sat in the center, and the outskirts of the table were cluttered with flasks. A sickening shudder ran down Michael’s spine-- the worst part about it was that shudder almost felt _excited_ .  
  
He quickly turned his head and spotted another entrance on the other side of the room. It was too dark in that area to tell what the other room looked like, but he figured the microphoned voices carrying from that direction was enough. After Michael quickly glanced around one final time, he walked to the dark entrance.  
  
This had to lead to the direct backstage, just as he hoped. Everything was black-- the walls, the curtain obscuring the entrance, and a side door next to it. The curtain appeared to lead straight to the source of the stage noises.  
  
Right as Michael’s fingertips brushed against the billowing curtain, a crutch poked out of it.  
  
Michael muffled back a scream and rushed into the unknown room, slamming the thin door behind him. Once he was in the safety of the room, he leaned against the wooden door and panted.  
  
_You know, you are placing a red target on yourself by wearing that sweater. Literally._  
  
As much as he hated the SQUIP, it was right. He listened for the clicks from Jake’s crutches to disappear while he pulled off his beloved hoodie and stuffed it in his backpack.  
  
Without looking, he reached for the doorknob and turned it, except it wouldn’t budge. Michael scrunched his face as he turned the doorknob again, this time more harshly.  
  
“Why! Won’t it! Open!”  
  
_People kept on stealing the makeup and costumes. It was actually a huge problem, so now you can only access this room via a keycard._  
  
“But I’m inside the room! Why would it lock from the INSIDE?!”  
  
_Wow, what an unfortunate glitch._  
  
“Seriously, I don’t have time for this!” Michael shouted as he pounded on the door.  
  
_You know, I thought you wanted the best for me. Do you really think I was happy being trapped in a friendship with some loser?_  
  
A lump swelled in Michael’s throat. Why did it have to look and sound exactly like Jeremy?  
  
_You can't pretend you were blind to it,_ the SQUIP continued, with a scowl of disgust contorted on Jeremy's face. _You always saw how unhappy I was, but you latched on and held me back-- like a fucking leech!_  
  
Michael flinched. "Y-You're not Jeremy."  
  
_And you’re not Jeremy’s friend. Always holding him back like that because you wouldn’t have anyone otherwise?_ _  
_ _  
_ _‘Hey, Michael, I want to sign up for--’_ _  
_ _  
_ _‘Smoking weed in my basement?'_ _  
_ _  
_ _‘The pill I took is actually working and is improving my--’_ _  
_ _  
_ _‘Ability to smoke weed in my basement?’_ _  
_ _  
_ _Can we just cut to the point already? You never were his friend to begin with._ _  
_  
Once again, Michael’s stomach panged. He focused his vision on the grainy texture of the door and tried to think of possible ways out.  
  
Fake Jeremy began to laugh. _Aww, is the truth too harsh for you? Look on the bright side; at least it’s mutual! Jeremy used you for company too._  
  
“It’s not the truth!” Michael shouted with a hoarse throat. “I really do care about him!”  
  
He knew it was stupid to humor the SQUIP, but at this point, reassuring himself outweighed anything else. Though it would have been more helpful if he could assure the same thing about Jeremy. The thought of Jeremy not (or worse: never) caring about him made his stomach drop a few floors.  
  
_If that’s the truth, then why did you abandon him so quickly?_  
  
Michael turned around to scan the room. It appeared to be a makeup room, with several huge mirrors, makeup scattered and smeared across the tables, and a collection of cheap wigs perched on foam heads. There were no closets or other doors. What the room did have was a large vent on the adjacent wall. Michael rushed toward it and dropped to the ground to examine it, only to find that it was bolted, like it obviously would be.  
  
_No, seriously. You researched SQUIPs for days-- no, weeks. You know exactly what we’re capable of, and after seeing Rich burn his friend’s house down, you know we can be dangerous. You constantly tried to warn Jeremy about the ‘dangers’. Yet, after Halloween, you stopped. Why is that?_ _  
_  
After hearing that, Michael felt like he swallowed a pin. He could not give an answer... not that he would answer. It wanted Michael to answer, and after all Jeremy’s SQUIP and his own SQUIP put him through, the last thing he would ever do was obey it. The SQUIPs were what caused all of these problems in the first place! And even if none of this happened, he wasn’t going to listen to an obviously evil AI, no matter how right it was. He would rather crash and burn and die than listen to some bootleg HAL 9000.

 _Hint: it’s because you’re a shitty, selfish friend. Why else would he be so quick to pretend you never met?_  Fake Jeremy answered for him.  
  
Still, Michael desperately wished that it didn’t ring true for him, but it did. After how Jeremy treated him, he felt too humiliated and betrayed to want to face him anymore. _Clearly_ , he was the superior one and didn’t need his help. If he wanted to ruin his own life and throw away 12 years of friendship, fine!  But all of the hurt in the world could not justify leaving him to rot like that, especially since Michael was the only one Jeremy knew who also knew about SQUIPs, besides Rich.  
  
_Rich,_ Michael recalled. _What if Jeremy would have followed his footsteps... or worse?_ _  
_  
“Why are you doing this?!” Michael shouted. “I thought your goal was for us to be friends again. You suck at your job!”  
  
_Your job was to be Jeremy's friend, wasn't it? And look how that turned out. Look, I’m only trying to show you the truth: how you’re not capable of maintaining friendships. This is why I’m here-- because I know how. I know how to help you, Michael. Just do as I say._  
  
“Wait.” Michael narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying I’m a shitty friend for letting Jeremy keep his SQUIP, but following your advice and letting you guys take over will make me a better friend? That makes no sense! I thought you were supposed to be a supercomputer. Maybe you’re just a computer.”  
  
_I am a supercomputer, and it makes perfect sense if you would just listen for once. Not that you ever listened to Jeremy before, but I digress. It’s all about intent. You were a horrible friend-- no, horrible PERSON -- if you thought SQUIPs were dangerous at the time and left him with his anyway. Now that you know better--_  
  
“Maybe I wasn't the greatest friend," Michael said as he looked down at his hands. "But that doesn’t mean I still have to be one now. He has been hurting people, and I know that's the last thing he would would want! He’s turning into a person Mr. Heere and I know he doesn’t want to turn into!”  
  
Fake Jeremy’s face fell. Michael tried to hide his smile. The “I believe in Mr. Heere” card was impenetrable. It was better than his Sol Ring! Actually, a lot of things were better than his Sol Ring, including other _Magic: The Gathering_ cards...

The SQUIP gently shut its eyes and sighed.  
  
_Believe me when I say I wish that would have worked._  
  
  
  
Suddenly, Michael’s eyes were flooded with radiant, blinding lights, but for some reason, his eyes were already completely adjusted. He seemed to no longer be in the makeup room, but he was still on the ground. Wherever he was, the surroundings were darker and more open. The weirdest part was that what appeared to be Keanu Reeves was staring down at him.  
  
“I'm going to improve your life, Jeremy, if I have to take over the entire student body to do it!” Keanu Reeves said.

  
Michael heard choking noises coming from below him, and then a pale hand was raised to cover his mouth, except that he did not feel its touch.

"S-Stop shocking me!" Jeremy's voice cried.  
  
Then Michael’s surroundings snapped back to the makeup room.  
  
_That was Jeremy’s SQUIP’s point of view. I can do that._  
  
“Wh--”  
  
_Yes, we see whatever our hosts see, even our own apparitions. If things were going how you planned, this is probably when you would be making an entrance. Hey, let’s get a better view of that!_  
  
Michael’s vision cut to the backstage again. This time, he was standing up. He wondered whose eyes he was seeing from.

Now he could see Jeremy and his SQUIP from the other end of the backstage. Jeremy was still on the ground, and his SQUIP was still looming over him. Then, without a word, Jeremy’s SQUIP leaped at Jeremy’s throat. The SQUIP looked like it was physically strangling Jeremy, who started to make very ugly wheezing noises.  
  
“JEREMY!” Michael shouted as his heart leaped into his throat.  
  
Michael desperately tried to run to Jeremy, but it was like a nightmare where he could not run no matter how hard he tried. He tried to shoot his arm towards him, also in vain. Hot tears started to spill down his face, but he could still Jeremy writhe in pain perfectly clear.

  
  
A moment later, Michael’s vision blurred as the now-visible tears welling in his eyes reflected watercolor bits of the makeup room. He could also now see the arm he tried to reach Jeremy with, which was still raised in the air.  
  
“Th-This i-i-isn’t... isn’t real,” Michael stammered to himself.  
  
_Despite the fact that Keanu Reeves is starring, this isn’t the Matrix. I can assure you this is very fucking real._  
  
“No...” Michael murmured. His heaving chest was now trembling, along with the rest of his body.  
  
_You know actually, I take back what I said about the Matrix. You have no idea what we have planned for your species._  
  
Michael did not respond, making Fake Jeremy sigh in disappointment.  
  
A million thoughts ran through Michael’s head. He wondered if this could have been stopped if he did things right. He shuddered at what the end goal of the SQUIPs could be. He worried if Jeremy was still being hurt.  
  
In a new found anger, Michael balled his fists up and grabbed his backpack. Whatever risk there was was worth it. Besides, he didn’t have very many options now.  
  
A powerful electric shock sparked at his fingers and toes, and it surged through the rest of his body until every atom of his existence buzzed painfully with electricity. Michael’s arms and legs immediately went slack. He tried to lift his arms back up, but they were paralyzed. He then tried to wiggle his fingers and toes, like how he always did to get out of sleep paralysis, but it did not work either.  
  
Fake Jeremy perked up and smiled. _Keep trying. It will only make it easier for me._ _  
_  
“Shut up you goddamn Bonzi Buddy,” Michael gritted.  
  
The shocks ceased but immediately started again. It kept on coming on and off again in a pattern of short bursts.  
  
_I am only telling the truth. What I’m doing is pretty much setting off a mini-taser inside you. No amount of willpower will overcome the biological fact that muscles of your extremities are paralyzed. See, the electricity is just enough to lock--_  
  
“I GOT IT!”  
  
_So any attempts to overcome it will be futile and will ultimately tire you out. Not too productive for either of us, but hey, your decision._ _  
_  
Everything in Michael’s body hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. Michael knew this couldn’t last forever; these parasites needed their hosts to survive. The SQUIP would eventually have to let him up to eat or drink, right? He couldn’t be trapped here forever. How long could it last? How long would it last?  
  
  
  
In the quiet of the room, the tinny voices echoing through the vents started to sound coherent.  
  
“There you are, Jeremy,” two female voices said in unison.  
  
“I just want you to know I’m not mad that you broke my heart and then slept with my best friend,” one of the voices said.  
  
“And I’m not mad you slept with my best friend and wouldn’t sleep with me,” the other voice said, which sounded like Chloe.  
  
Despite still being high, Michael was certain this was not natural. Someone-- Brooke?-- should and would be mad if their boyfriend broke their heart and cheated on them. Chloe shouldn’t be mad that Jeremy wouldn’t sleep with her, but she would be.  
  
“He didn’t sleep with you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“He didn’t sleep with me!”  
  
“No!”  
  
This is when the magnitude of the situation hit him like a train. It was more than losing a friend or a robot invasion. Everybody was going to become an empty husk, and there was nothing he could do about it anymore. The apocalypse seemed more fun when its existence was restricted to the boundaries a video game.  
  
“Oh my god, why was I so jealous of you?” they said simultaneously, and then they both gasped at the same time. “You were jealous of me? That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me! Sisters forever! Jinx!”  
  
  
  
“Ugh,” Michael groaned. “Fine.”  
  
The SQUIP extended its hand and Michael grabbed it without looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is in Michael's point of view, I had the SQUIP's dialogue be in quotation marks before he knew it was a SQUIP for sure.
> 
> This will be a multichapter fic. I don’t know how many chapters it will be.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael meets the final boss.

When Michael’s hand pushed the black curtain out of the way, some stray light from a spotlight got caught in his eye. The first thing he caught a glimpse of was Jeremy’s SQUIP, making hatred like he never knew boil beneath his skin.

It did not deserve to take the form of Keanu Reeves, especially since it looked like Keanu when he starred in the Matrix. Neo was the average citizen fighting against despotic artificial intelligence-- he wasn’t one of them!

 

Suddenly, Michael was pulled back away from the stage's entrance, making him be at the fringes of the lounge again. While avoiding the sight of the table with the SQUIP ingredients, Michael faced the force that pulled him back, which was Fake Jeremy.

_Michael, I cannot stress to you how imperative it is to make a good impression to Mr. Reeves!_

Fake Jeremy’s face was scrunched up in pure determination. It almost looked protective, in a creepy way.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. He’s the ringleader,” Michael muttered, swatting the hologram away.

_You have no idea what he’s capable of. If you really care about seeing Jeremy again, I would drop the idea that you’re disguising yourself as a zombie to save the day like in one of your useless video games._

In surprise, Michael immediately straightened his slouched posture, and he felt his stomach drop.

 _Did you really think you could hide that from me?_  the SQUIP asked with a smirk planted on its face. It then grabbed Michael’s arms, a little too strongly for something that was not really there, and brought Michael closer. _Of course you did. If there was anything worth going on up there, I wouldn’t be here._

Michael snarled and pulled himself away. He was sick of being in someone’s grip, he was sick of being insulted, and he was definitely fucking sick of being told what to do. It didn’t help that his one last glimmer of hope-- his last one plan-- was ripped away from him in an instant. Now he had nothing left besides winging it.

_Now, listen to me. All you have to do is comfort Jeremy so he can finish the role he worked so hard on. That’s literally it. Something you would do anyway. You’re his friend, right?_

“If all I have to do is something I’d do anyway, then why was I diseased with you?”

_‘Diseased’ is a mean word. Also, my role is to basically babysit you, because Mr. Reeves saw a possibility of you ruining the play in your self-centered attempt to be a hero._

“Then why do I have to look... like this?” Michael asked, looking down at himself.

Instead of his red hoodie keeping himself warm, it was a green letterman jacket. His headphones and glasses, switched out with his emergency contacts, were also tucked away in his backpack.

_For me. You looked so tacky it physically hurt._

Michael blinked, dislocating his left eye’s contacts. He rubbed his stinging, watering eye and returned to the entryway.

 

When he peaked through the black curtain again, he saw Christine looking down at Jeremy from the top of a platform. Even though they were behind the giant red drape that separated them from the audience, a spotlight shone directly on top of her. Her warm skin and black hair were glowing. She really looked like an angel. Or a fairy... that was what she was supposed to be, right?

“Jeremy, I... love... you!” she declared in a sing-song voice.

She hopped down from the platform and approached Jeremy. When she met him and reached for his hands, he jumped back like her hands were burning.

“Christine! Stop it!” Jeremy cried.

Her face dropped to a look of genuine disappointment. “Jeremy, I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you, but this isn’t you!”

“This  _is_ me! I never felt more alive and more like myself ever before!”

Jeremy continued to back away. “A-Aren’t you unsure about who you are? Weren’t you feeling guilty about leaving Jake at the party?”

“Not anymore!” Christine blissfully proclaimed.

“Well, now _I’m_ unsure who I am, so bye!”

Jeremy started to run away, but Christine caught his hand when he passed her.

“You wanted me to take it!”

“And you shouldn’t have listened to me! I was an idiot, Christine. There was nothing wrong with you before you took it! I wouldn’t have liked you if you weren’t you!”

Christine dropped Jeremy’s hand. “So there’s something wrong with me now?”

“Actually, YES! You’re taking orders from an AI!”

Christine blinked. “So?”

“ _So?!_ ”

“What, do you think I’m some kind of robot now? I have just as much control over myself as you do!”

“Th-That’s... actually not very much control at all.”

“It seems fine to me.”

“Try disobeying it.”

“What?”

“Sooner or lat--” Jeremy tried to say, interrupted by a cough.

Michael flinched, but Fake Jeremy grabbed his shoulder and held him in place.

“Jeremy!” Christine shouted as she rushed closer to him.

“CHRISTINE CANIGULA!” Mr. Reyes called from stage left. “YOU’RE UP NOW!”

Christine nervously glanced at the gigantic red theatre drape in front of them and then looked back at Jeremy.

“I’m not leaving you like this!” Christine shouted.

She extended her hand to place it on his back, but she was obviously struggling against something else for control in the process, especially since her hand was trembling a worrying amount.

“Ugh! No, shut up! It’s not that important!” she yelled at someone out of Michael’s field of vision.

After that, it looked like she was fighting to not walk to the front stage. Some of her movements were deep in the uncanny valley.

“I’M NOT GOING ON STAGE NOW! I thought you cared about justice! THIS ISN’T JUSTICE!”

“Christine, I’m fine! Well, I’m not, but I’ll live,” Jeremy said.

“Are you sure?!”

Jeremy held her hands. “Yeah,” he reassured. “Go on stage. You worked hard for this. We’ll figure everything out after this, alright?”

“Alright,” Christine sighed with a tinge of hope in her voice.

Christine started to walk towards the stage right. Midway, she turned around and sprinted back to Jeremy and stared at him for a few seconds. She pulled him in and kissed him.

Without saying another word, she disappeared onstage.

Jeremy pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “ _God_ , Christine,” he said to himself with remorse drenched in voice. “I’m sorry.”

 

_That’s your cue._

Michael's stomach felt sick, like it was festering. Nothing about this was right.

_I said it was your cue!_

Fake Jeremy pushed Michael and made him stumble onto the backstage. Despite the fact that he made such a loud and clumsy entrance, Jeremy did not seem to notice at all. He still seemed motionless and entirely lost in his thoughts, with his back turned against him.

Michael shifted his eyes and saw that Jeremy’s SQUIP pierced its eyes directly at him. A freezing chill ran down his spine. It scanned him with its cold, calculating eyes, as if it was determining whether he deserved to live or not. Jeremy’s SQUIP was another level of terrifying. And this thing was _inside_ Jeremy’s mind for two months now-- nonstop.

It tightened its lips and then turned away. Hopefully that meant approval.

 

As Michael slowly approached Jeremy, he continued thinking about his theory of the nature of SQUIPs and how they came about. SQUIPs seemed to aspire towards perfection, or specifically, whatever society dictates what perfection is. This was not anything new. People from the dawn of time have endorsed in the idea that perfection was tangible in not only the universe, but eventually to humankind, whether if was for a philosophical purpose or from an omniscient being that they got knowledge from.

An omniscient being people can get advice from.

That describes both God and SQUIPs.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut and brushed the thought off as residual bullshit from his waning high. What would that mean anyway? SQUIPs were evil, so they wouldn’t be like gods; they would be demons, and that wouldn’t make any sense either. Also, SQUIPs probably weren’t completely omniscient.

Still, he thought maybe he was on to something.

 

When Michael was only a couple feet behind Jeremy, a tsunami of guilt crashed on him. His arms began to tremble from the overwhelming emotions. It was impossible for Michael to explain how he knew, but this feeling was not from himself.

 _You’re feeling Jeremy’s emotions right now,_  Fake Jeremy confirmed. _That is a result from the syncing, which is also why you can see the his SQUIP right now. That happens when when you are synced 58%. We are synced 62%. By the way, I am going to make myself invisible now, as to not unsettle Jeremy._

 _What happens when we sync 100%?_  Michael asked. For some reason, his gut churned more.

 _Don’t worry about it; we’re not going that far,_ the SQUIP dismissed as it disappeared.

 

Reluctantly, Michael placed a supportive hand on Jeremy’s back. Jeremy simultaneously flinched and turned around.

“Michael?” he gasped and stared at Michael for a moment, eyes wide in recognition and desperation.

Before he knew it, Michael was wrapped in a tight embrace.

Michael hugged him back. He would be lying if he said he waited for this moment. After how much contempt there was laced in Jeremy’s voice the last time they spoke, he prepared for Jeremy to never acknowledge him ever again.

It felt great, but it honestly felt very strange. After not truly communicating for weeks, it felt like they were strangers in a way. But just like never forgetting how to ride a bike, Michael knew they could never entirely lose their friendship. However, being ripped apart by something that shared his face for the past half hour did not exactly make it easy to face him.

Jeremy let go of him. “Where were you?! I called you like a billion times!”

Michael reached into his jacket’s pocket and grabbed his phone. When he pressed the home button, he noticed 8 missed called and 19 text messages, all from the same number. The number was not assigned a contact name, but he knew who it was from. All the deleting in the world would never let him forget Jeremy’s number.

So this was the extent of optic nerve blocking. Michael sucked in air between his teeth in frustration at both himself and his SQUIP.

 _I turned my phone off to watch you perform,_ Fake Jeremy suggested.

“Bootlegging is a FEDERAL CRIME, Jeremy. Of course my phone was turned off! How else could I watch you perform, uh, _‘A Midsummer’s Night Dream: Zombie Attack Edition: The Musical’_?” Michael actually said.

“That’s not even what it’s called," Jeremy muttered. "Wait, you came to see me in the play?” He then glanced behind them, to the left, to the stage, and then back at Michael. “...Who told you about the bootleg thing? Mr. Reyes? You’re aware that this is a high school production, right? And why do you look like that?! Aren’t you blind?”

Michael crossed his fingers that Jeremy was referring to him not having glasses on and not the fact that his eyes were still puffy.

_I just wanted to be respectful._

Michael pulled up his lips in widest grin he could manage. “I just wanted to be as respectful as possible to my best buddy, Jeremy, whom I now totally forgive one-hundred percent!” He firmly patted Jeremy’s shoulder.

_Wow. No wonder why you didn't join theatre with Jeremy._

Jeremy's arm flinched from underneath Michael’s hand. “Dude, you’re seriously creeping me out! Don’t tell me you're--

Fake Jeremy suddenly reappeared. Now both SQUIPs were resting their hands on their host's shoulders, as if they were overbearing parents presenting their children to each other.

The queasiness on Jeremy's face was washed away with confusion. “Wait. Why is there another me right behind you?” He craned his neck to look at his own SQUIP behind him.

The imitation of Keanu Reeves moved its lips and produced unbearably loud dial-up screeches. It was not dampened even after Michael cringed and clasped his hands over his ears. And to think he once thought dial-up sounded cool.

 _You have to be 73% synced with Jeremy to hear his SQUIP correctly. We are only 68% synced as of now,_ Fake Jeremy informed.

Michael almost wished they were more synced-- whatever that even meant-- so he wouldn’t have to hear that terrifying cacophony anymore.

“ _Oh,_ ” Jeremy said once his own SQUIP appeared to stop talking.

Boiling blood rose to Michael’s cheeks. SQUIPs take the form of whoever you would be the most likely to listen to. Jeremy’s SQUIP was a conventionally attractive and suave movie star. Michael’s SQUIP was his best friend, who was now aware of the fact that he admired him above anyone else.

“H-Hey, Michael,” Jeremy began. “Um, you’ll listen to me, right? Uh... don’t do as your SQUIP says.”

Michael’s face flushed even more. He hid his genuine fluster by incorporating it into his act, which included bearing another Stepford smile and grabbing Jeremy’s hands. “Of course, Jeremy, whatever you say!”

_You’re overdoing it, idiot!_

Jeremy tore himself away from Michael in the same exact way he did with Christine.

“NO!” Jeremy cried. “I... I don’t want you to do what I say! I want you be angry at me! I want you to feel superior because you listen to music on vinyl and like eel sushi and don’t care about being popular! I want you to rub it in my face and say that you told me so!”

He walked up to Jeremy, who backed away until he ran into a column. When Michael had him cornered, he leaned in and prepared to speak into Jeremy's ear.

“I told you so."

“No!” Jeremy cried again. Michael could now feel a lump in his throat, probably from Jeremy. “I-I... you... you were the ONE person who I thought--”

The lump in his throat suddenly disappeared and Jeremy grabbed Michael’s shoulders, prying him off of him.

“Wait,” Jeremy flatly said. “You were putting on an act this entire time! Just to spite me! This is JUST like you!" A smile suddenly spread across his face. “This is just like you!” he half-shouted, half-laughed in realization. “You’re still a dick.”

“So are you.”

“I know. I--”

“JEREMY HEERE!” Mr. Reyes called from the stage left.

Jeremy looked towards the burgundy drape. “I... have to go. This scene is less than five minutes. I’ll be right back!”

Before Jeremy disappeared on the stage, he gave Michael a brief but very warm hug.

 

The warmth faded very quickly once Michael was left alone, and so did his smile.

A realization hit him: everything went too perfectly. Neither of the SQUIPs stopped him from ridiculously overacting to mock them. Maybe he did exactly what they wanted.

It made perfect sense. Showing Jeremy that he was still Michael was one of the very few things that could comfort him at the moment, and it would not be far-fetched for the SQUIPs to know that. Acting eerily fake first would only heighten Jeremy’s relief, and maybe the real reason why Fake Jeremy forced him to change his clothes was to hammer in the initial creepiness. Sure, Fake Jeremy made a few weak remarks, but those easily could have been a red herring.

Michael pulled his hair in frustration. He was pawn no matter what! He thought doing whatever the opposite of what the SQUIPs wanted was enough, but he fell right into the trap. If he did what the SQUIPs seemed to want, well, maybe they actually wanted it that time. He had no idea what to do anymore. Nothing seemed right. Maybe he was falling into a trap again just by thinking about this!

His knees were already wobbly, so he completely collapsed when someone kicked the back of his knees.

“Hey,” Chloe smirked while making a seat out of his lap.

After that, Michael felt someone tie his arms from behind his back.

“Not fucking _this_ again!” Michael shouted. “JEREM--”

 _Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, A,_ Jeremy’s SQUIP commanded as it clipped through the burgundy drape, cutting Michael’s voice short. It stopped in front of Michael and loomed over him. _He can’t hear you._

Then it coolly slid its hands into its pockets. _Now, about--_

“JEREMY!” Michael called again.

“Shut the fuck up!” Chloe griped.

 _“You_ shut the fuck up!” Michael shouted back.

“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that or I’ll cut you!” Jake threatened behind him, who must have been the one who tied his hands back. “We heard that you stole some really nice mixers from Dustin Kropp.”

“I didn’t steal anything!” Michael protested.

Stolen mixers? Really? That was what Jake was concerned with? 

Michael didn’t want to deal with this level of off-brand frat boy, so he focused his vision to what was behind Chloe, which was nothing except for Jeremy’s SQUIP. “Where is your SQUIP?”

 _You can only see me and your own SQUIP. Jeremy is the only one you are synced enough with. You are approximately 30% synced with the rest,_ Fake Keanu Reeves informed. _Also, they do not know what SQUIPs are, so do not bother. They are on ecstasy for all they know._

“Right,” Michael nodded. “Normies.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Jake asked.

“I’ll have you know, I am NOT normal! Have you seen me when I’m drunk?” Chloe added. “Exactly. I am sooooo weird.”

"Damn babe, you so are," Jake replied.

Chloe said something back to Jake, which Michael did not bother to pay attention to. Then they both started flirting with each other, while they were still on top of him. Michael tried not to gag.

While they were distracted, Michael pulled against the restraints tying his wrists back and tried to wiggle his hands out. Both attempts were unsuccessful. 

The supercomputer watched in amusement. It then squatted down to Michael’s level, boring its blue screen of death eyes into his, and coldly smiled.

 

_I am just glad we finally located who had that case of Mountain Dew Red._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story is a lot longer than I anticipated, so whatever I was saying about chapter three in the last chapter's notes will actually be in chapter four.
> 
> I heard Christine's SQUIP was Ruth Bader Ginsburg in the current run, so that's her SQUIP here too! She fits Christine a lot better than Hillary Clinton imo.
> 
> Also, I tried my best to describe the locations, but I'm very conscious about how I describe 3D space. If you were confused at any point, please let me know.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael was never able to beat the final boss in Apocalypse of the Damned. Just a fun fact!

  
  
Pure ice shot up Michael’s veins.  
  
  
  
“You--” Michael corrected himself. _You targeted Jeremy because I’m the type of person who would get my hands on Mountain Dew Red?_  
  
_That is part of it. Jeremy was also the perfect person to use to spread us even more. He is just the right amount of pathetic and stupid to break and mold exactly how we would like._  
  
Hot anger welled up in Michael; he wished that his hands weren’t tied up and that the SQUIPs were physical entities so he could punch that fucker straight in the face. If he couldn’t make the SQUIP realize how wrong it was, he wanted to make it sorry for having the gall to say that. He wanted the SQUIP to feel sorry for thinking it knew Jeremy better than him in its two months of leeching off his existence over their shared twelve years. Jeremy was an ass sometimes, sure, but he was never pathetic! Jeremy was thoughtful, caring (usually), ambitious, funny and...

That wasn't even touching on how no one, or nothing, had the right to hurt and manipulate him like that.

His anger was interrupted when he head a zip come from behind him. 

“That’s it!” Jake shouted in triumph. “So you have the rest of it at your house, right?”  
  
All along he thought he had control, where he made a deal with his SQUIP that he would only follow along if he could bring his backpack with him, Mountain Dew Red included. But this was the SQUIP’s plan the entire time. Was there anything else these Tic Tac knockoffs could take away from him? A hateful lump grew in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut and thought about how Jeremy must have been right all along-- he really was a loser.  
  
_The rest of the case is located in the closet of his bedroom_ , Fake Jeremy informed the other SQUIP.  
  
Goddamn traitor. Well, not really. Fake Jeremy was his enemy the entire the time, but Michael still felt betrayed somehow.  
  
_Great_ , Fake Keanu Reeves beamed. It gracefully straightened itself up, now standing up. _Where are his keys?_  
  
Fake Jeremy sighed. _That’s the thing. He’s enough of a moron to get locked out of his house. Get this-- he WALKED here._  
  
_Of course._

Jeremy suddenly bursted through the thick theatre drape.

“I don’t care if I ruined the scene! Christine should hate me anyway!” Jeremy yelled, exasperated. “I felt so weird! Something is wrong with Mich--”  
  
His gaze snapped down at Michael, who was still tied on the ground and surrounded by SQUIPs and annoying classmates.  
  
Michael looked up at him and half-smiled. No matter how much of a heinous day this was, he was glad he at least got a psychic connection with his best friend out of it. Never in his life did he ever expect to relate to Percy Jackson or Grover Underwood.  
  
Chloe (and hopefully Jake) looked like a deer in headlights before scrambling away to somewhere behind Michael, and then ugly crackling rattled in sync with some of the thunderous footsteps. Michael cringed at the sound and cringed even more when he remembered Jake just broke both of his legs a few days ago.  
  
“Was that... Is that Mountain Dew Red?!” Jeremy asked with a mixture of confusion and awe in his voice.  
  
Michael nodded.  
  
Without another word, Jeremy ran off to presumably chase Jake, who presumably took the Mountain Dew Red with him.

After that, Michael clumsily stood himself up, not anticipating how hard it would be without being able to use his hands. He tugged at whatever was tying his wrists together but with no luck-- it was tied too tightly and the material was pretty thick and silky. It felt like some kind of sash for a dress. A moment later, painful electric shocks climbed up his legs, immobilizing them again and landing him on the floor again.

 

_You know, despite being supercomputers, we technically are not computers._

  
  
Michael snapped his head up and glared at Fake Keanu Reeves.  
  
_You are the computer. We are a computer program._  
  
“Yeah, that sounds stup-- I WAS RIGHT! You really are a Bonzi Buddy!” Michael laughed. “Wait. NO! You’re like a Windows Vista! You’re so shitty no one will care about you even after you become vintage!”  
  
_It phases me how stuck in the past you are, but that is for another discussion. I am not your SQUIP, so I am not your therapist. Anyway. What happens on a computer is entirely dependent on the programs running on it. If a program demands the computer to close a window, the computer will close a window._  
  
One cue, both of Michael’s eyes shut. Was this a mind game? Michael’s heart pounded against his chest and he forced them open them as soon as possible.  
  
_If a program tells the computer to stop its air flow, the computer will stop its air flow._  
  
Michael found that he was not breathing anymore. Nothing was obstructing his throat, and he wasn’t suffocating. His breathing stopped being automatic, and for some reason, he couldn’t figure out how to start inhaling again.  
  
_If a program tells the computer to shut down, the computer will shut down._

  
  
“Dude, give that back! That’s Michael’s!” Jeremy’s muffled voice carried from another room.  
  
“No, it’s Dustin’s!” Jake replied.  
  
“Michael BOUGHT it from Dustin at the back of Spencer’s Gifts! Here-- call him! I’ll prove it!” A moment later, Michael head a crash and Jeremy yell, “FUCK!”  
  
There were a few more distant crashes. Michael’s chest felt like it was about to explode, but he did not have the option of inhaling again.  
  
If Jeremy took the time to untie Michael, then they would have lost sight of Jake. Plus, there was no way for him to know this was going on besides a spotty psychic connection. He couldn’t hold it against Jeremy for leaving him like this, right?  
  
“Why do you have to take everything away from me?!” Jeremy shouted again. “You already have everything! Just. Let. Me. Have. This!”  
  
“Because I can!” Jake shouted back, and then he callously laughed. “Is this about Christine?”  
  
“No! I just want my old life back!”  
  
“Haha, wow, me too! That’s actually why I can’t let you have this!”

  
  
Their voices then became too distant to understand. Stars appeared around Michael’s darkening surroundings and his head started to feel warm.  
  
_Do you understand now? It is completely pointless to fight against us. You only have fifty three seconds before you lose consciousness. Use them wisely. I will not restore your breathing once you are knocked out. Jeremy will find your lifeless body-- I will make sure of that-- and he will still have a SQUIP. There is nothing to gain by not cooperating._  
  
_You wouldn’t sabotage Jeremy’s mental health. Jeremy would be devastated if I die_ , Michael replied. It took a lot of effort to organize his dizzying thoughts enough to muster a coherent response.  
  
_Would he?_  
  
_Yes, he would!_  Michael screamed.  
  
_Very well; you are correct. He would be devastated before I wipe his memory clean and have his father’s workplace relocate._  
  
Air suddenly rushed into Michael’s lungs again.  
  
_We’re not seriously going to go through with this!_  Jeremy’s voice declared from besides him. _I’m not letting my host acquire brain damage!_  
  
Michael really appreciated that his SQUIP was somewhat on his side, but it felt anything but heartwarming. He knew his SQUIP saw him in the same way he saw the bacteria in his guts: necessary for survival but on the same level as the dirt he stepped on.  
  
_If he is not going to be useful, I do not see why we have to put up with him. The entire point of us being deployed in New Jersey was to destroy that case. If you are not going to cooperate, I d-- Hello, Jeremy. You should have listened to me when I told you that Jake Dillinger and Chloe Valentine would outrun you due to their superior athletic ability._  
  
Michael felt someone roughly tug at the tie on his wrist. If something was going on in front of him, he couldn’t tell, since his vision was still very blacked out.  
  
“I’M SORRY!” Jeremy shouted. “I shouldn’t have left you alone like that! We’re a team! But they took off so fast and I wasn’t thinking!”  
  
A lump formed in Michael’s throat. “I know.”  
  
“A-And Jake poured it! All of it! I don’t know what to do, Michael! I think they might be heading to your house now!”  
  
Michael felt digging in his backpack. Through the dark blotches in his vision clearing like storm clouds, he vaguely saw Jeremy sit in front of him with an almost empty water bottle.  
  
“You sound like you need water! Here, drink this,” Jeremy offered while bringing the bottle up to his face.  
  
Without thinking, Jeremy poured the drink in Michael’s mouth. Michael immediately cringed when the entirety of his mouth and throat was filled with chilled liquid expo marker.  
  
“Michael! What’s wrong? UGH! Sorry, I wasn’t thinking again!”  
  
Since Michael was still gagging, Jeremy took a swig of the bottle to investigate.  
  
_Jeremī. Yoku dekimashita. Anata wa baka. Anata no minikui kao o motsu koto wa itai desu_ , Fake Jeremy snapped in a very distorted voice before disappearing.  
  
“Uh... what?” Michael said, wondering if he was still high or if it was from the lack of oxygen.  
  
Fake Keanu Reeves walked up to both of them. _Huh. He did not tell me you brought alcohol anata to issho ni. Watashi ga kaettekitara watashi wa anata no ryōhō o koroshimasu._  
  
Michael sighed in relief when it started glitching into oblivion as well. When it was completely gone, he focused his finally cleared vision on the water bottle. “It’s empty.”  
  
Jeremy shrugged and tossed it over his shoulder. “Mountain Dew Red is better anyway... except for the fact that it’s all gone now. What should we do?” he said before going behind Michael to fidget at the tie on his wrists again.  
  
“Lick it off the floor?” Michael distantly suggested, only thinking about whether if he should bring up what just happened.  
  
“I’m serious!”  
  
“I’m serious too,” Michael said in a low voice. There wouldn’t be enough time to go to get more at his house. “But we shouldn’t have to do that. There’s always a drop left at the bottom, right?”  
  
“You think that will be enough?” Jeremy briefly dug through the backpack again. “I wish your backpack had scissors, by the way.”  
  
“Let’s hope it will be enough.”  
  
Jeremy continued his attempt to untie the knot. “Ugh! Why did Jake have to be the co-president of the knot-tying club two years ago?!”  
  
“By the way, your SQUIP literally tried to kill me,” Michael casually brought up while the window of opportunity was still open.  
  
“WHAT?!”  
  
“Yeah. He made my lungs stop working and I was about to pass out before you came back.”  
  
“I... Wh-What... holy fuck!” Jeremy choked, sounding like he was either crying on the verge of tears. He tugged at the tie even more furiously. “You’re getting the Mountain Dew Red first!”  
  
“You didn’t know that?” Michael asked. Maybe that sounded too accusatory. “So you didn't catch that with our psychic empathy link?”  
  
“I was out of breath and I felt like I was going to die, but I thought that was just from chasing after Jake! God! Michael, I am so sorry!”  
  
“Don't be sorry! Your psychic empathy link just didn't pick up on it! You were too far!"

"You think it's a distance thing?"

"It has to be," Michael replied, remembering that he first felt Jeremy's emotions when he right behind him. He sighed. "Man, your SQUIP sucks. It’s not above suffocating you either.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“What do  _you_ mean?” Michael deflected, almost indignantly. “It strangled you on the stage! My SQUIP showed me it!”  
  
“Yeah, he must have made that up. That didn’t happen at all.”

Michael's throat tightened. Jeremy didn’t remember that, just like how he wouldn’t remember him if he died. So the SQUIP wasn’t just bluffing.  
  
Within a few moments, the tie fell off, and Michael rubbed his fingers over the impressions on his newly freed wrists. Jeremy extended an arm towards Michael, and he immediately grabbed it.  
  
As they ran toward the exit, they both glanced around the unsettlingly empty backstage. Neither of their SQUIPs were around. It was like when there were no enemies around right before a final boss, or worse: when a spider disappeared.  
  
“JEREMY HEERE! YOUR STARRING SCENE IS NEXT!” Mr. Reyes boomed from the shadows.  
  
“SHIT!” Jeremy yelped. He grabbed Michael’s hand and pulled them through the black curtain.  
  
As the black curtain brushed against them, Michael’s stomach dropped. “I think there is something wrong. We were able to to drink the booze. Whenever the SQUIPs let me do anything, they were up to something,” Michael said, not exaggerating a bit. Even being allowed to breathe had its own agenda behind it, apparently.  
  
“Well, mine didn’t know about it, right?”  
  
“So we think. That doesn’t matter anyway, because mine had to know.”  
  
“What should we do instead?”  
  
“I don’t know!”  
  
They entered the lounge Michael entered before. The table that held the Mountain Dew, flasks, and shoebox was toppled over, littering the floor with broken glass interspersed with sticky radioactive-green poison and grey pills.  
  
“It will take too long to destroy them,” Jeremy argued, pulling Michael towards the hallway he started out in. “We’re getting the SQUIP out of your head first!”  
  
They sprinted down the hallway behind the backstage.  
  
“I am so sorry,” Jeremy gasped while they were running. “A-About everything, not just this. Michael... I don’t even have words for. How much of a stupid asshole I was. Being to you.”  
  
Michael slightly smiled. “I appreciate,” he wheezed, “that. Gestures matter!”  
  
Jeremy came to an abrupt stop, and consequently, so did Michael.  
  
“You know, before all this happened, I was planning on making you apologize first. Petty, I know, but--”  
  
“Shhh,” Jeremy interrupted, pressing his ear against a door.  
  
A moment later, Jeremy slowly leaned up again and carefully placed a hand on the door knob. He partially opened the door and flipped the light switch on.  
  
“It’s clear,” Jeremy whispered as he walked in.  
  
Michael followed him. The tiny room was completely blank, except for a piano, an empty music stand, and a puddle of red soda next to an emptied bottle.  
  
Jeremy immediately closed the door and ran up to the bottle. As he picked it up, the light made the few milliliters left glint red like the lifeblood it was.  
  
“Here.” Jeremy smiled. “Promise to find me another one?”  
  
Michael smiled back and took it. “Already done.”  
  
He took a deep breath and brought the bottle closer to his mouth. When he tried to exhale, his lungs remained full of stiff air. A feeling of dread took over Michael, almost making him drop the bottle. His stomach dropped when he noticed Fake Keanu Reeves behind Jeremy, its face completely devoid of any emotion.  
  
Michael’s instincts screamed at him to run out of the room, as far as possible from his enemy. Once he bursted out of the room and into the hall, he was able to exhale again. Then he inhaled fresh air, vowing to never take oxygen for granted ever again.  
  
“Hey, Michael? What’s wrong?” Jeremy called, following him into the hallway. Michael vaguely noticed Jeremy turn his head. “Oh... shit! He’s back!”  
  
His vision was already hazy, but everything became a blurry, stinging mess when he blinked hard and dislocated both of his contacts again. Everything worsened when felt his breathing lock again for a moment before it returning to normal. From the panic, his thudding heart was racing to keep up. The pattern was really odd and irregular; the beats themselves were quicker but the silent gaps between each beat grew.

“I want to go to hosp--” Michael started, interrupted by his breathing halting again before returning. A pit of doom grew in his stomach. “CALL 9-1-1! Y-Your SQUIP...”

“OH MY GOD! I-I’m... I’m...” Jeremy cried as whipped out his phone and dialed three numbers.

The rings were too goddamn slow.

"There was a paramedic!" Michael remembered. "In the audience... I sat next to her..."

Jeremy perked up. "I can't leave you again! I already did twice, a-and each time--"

"PLEASE! Jeremy! You have to go!" Michael felt his heart unnaturally flutter. "NOW! FUCKING GO!"

The ringing stopped.

Jeremy pressed the phone against his ear. "My best friend can't breathe! No. For now. Middle Borough High School. The hallway behind the backstage," he said, guiltily looking back at Michael.

Simultaneously, Michael glared at Jeremy with the most disdain he felt in life. Whatever, if he died, that would fucking be on him. He knew he wasn't in any condition to run for help, so he started to drink the Mountain Dew Red. His arms were weak, but he still managed to lift them up. As he brought the rim to his lips, one of the heartbeats didn’t return. The silent gap became so long that it wasn’t a gap anymore. An overwhelming stabbing, burning pain overtook his chest, making Michael drop the bottle and clutch his chest as he collapsed against the wall and slid down it.

 

 _"MICHAEL!"_   Jeremy screeched, desperately clutching on to Michael's shoulder with one hand.

 

His heart started beating again. The beats felt weaker and more irregular this time, and Michael worried that each one could be the last.

"He-He's... Yes, he's alive," Jeremy spoke into his phone. "My-- HIS-- chest hurts. Wait... I... I should?  _Right now?_ But what if... okay..."

Jeremy reluctantly stood up and started to sprint down the hall. As he disappeared, so did his voice. Everything was completely empty again.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut. There were weird squeezing sensations running up his spine, and some visceral parts inside his body he didn't even know he had spasmed very weirdly. For some reason, his jaw began to hurt a lot.

After a few moments, Michael's heartbeat started to feel a bit stronger and more regular, but he still anticipated death at each moment. Thinking about facing death and what it was going to be like sucked a lot less than thinking about how both of his mothers would react, so he thought about that. Would death fade in slowly, or would it be like a snap? Was there life after death, or would it be like before he was born? He was glad he was born. His throat tightened when he remembered how stupid he was when he wished he would kill himself or wished he was never born. He didn't want to die!

His thoughts floated to Jeremy. God, he was going to miss him so much. Or maybe not, because he would be dead.

 

Then, Michael felt someone grab his hand. He fluttered his eyes open, yet again dislocating the contacts. Through his watery vision, he made out Jeremy sitting right in front of him.

“I... thought... call 9-1-1,” Michael weakly said.

Jeremy guided Michael’s hand to the bottle. His hand then pressed into Michael’s hand and made it cup around the bottle.

“I already did. Help is on the way.”

“Jer-Jeremy...”

“Shhh. Don’t waste your air,” Jeremy instructed while lifting the hand.

“If I die... please don’t forget me."

“You won’t die. Just drink this. You will be okay. I promise.”

The rim of the bottle was now touching his lips again, and then he felt his hand tilt the bottle. A few milliliters of Mountain Dew Red ran into his mouth. Moments later, his heart stopped again.

 

It did not return.

 

Within a few seconds, Michael’s senses went completely dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The story does not end here!** In fact this was basically just Act 1 (out of 3 acts).
> 
> My laptop **sucks** (as in half the keys are worn out  & won’t work and it randomly turns off). Plus I started school again, and I’m taking really intense classes. I’ll try to update as soon as possible but it will be difficult.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> I know it's been a bit repetitive so far. (For a reason, but still.) Don't worry though-- the rest of the story is going to be drastically different.
> 
> If you are even remotely familiar with Japanese, it’s pretty obvious that I don’t speak it even a little. I used Google Translate, which will not translate Romaji back.
> 
> This is what they were supposed to say:  
> “Jeremy. Well done. You are an idiot. It is painful to have your ugly face.”  
> “Huh. He didn’t tell me you brought alcohol with you. When I return, I will kill both of you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: I think I'll change title to "We Sync" the next time I post because it's more succinct and makes so much more sense lol. Also, I can't believe the last time I posted was in the summer. School eats up so much time. I have the majority of the story planned out so when I post next will be a matter of when I have time!

A shallow breath entered and exited his lungs. His eyes opened, blinded by a sea of white light.

The first thing that he knew that his head was ringing. A lot. Especially in his temples. He rubbed his temples and found that his eyes were adjusting to the light. The first things he could make out was the traces of the end of a bed, a counter on the far end of the room, and the outline of the walls and ceiling. Since he still could not see much, he focused on what he could hear. It wasn’t much besides some mechanical humming and continuous beeps. Even though the sounds were soft, they only worsened his pounding headache. Wherever he was, he could not describe the smell nor put his finger on it, but it was familiar.

When the stinging of his eyes subsided and the colorful blotches dancing his vision cleared, he saw thin unnaturally pale hands shaking in front of his face. The alien sight made his skin jump, and the feeling of panic began to rise in his chest.

“Hey,” a familiar voice greeted from the right. “Feels like you’re missing a part of yourself, right?”

In surprise, he whipped his head around to face the source. The person was also in a hospital bed, except he was elevated at an angle and his bed had a lot more equipment near it. Almost all of the person’s skin was wrapped in casts and bandages. The skin that wasn’t covered up looked burnt. His eyes then darted to the face, which he immediately recognized to be Rich’s.

“Hurts like a motherfucker too,” Rich continued. He sighed. “Be honest: what are they saying about me at school?”

He swallowed. Even if he knew what to say, the uncomfortable dryness of his mouth made him unprepared to speak.

“That bad, huh? Whatever. I’m finally free of that shiny happy hive mind! When I get outta here, the ladies are going to love the _real_ Richard Goranski!” Rich continued, now speaking with a lisp. He paused. “And the dudes. Oh my god, I’m totally bi.”

As Rich rambled on, his stomach inexplicably continued to twist.

“No offense, but... what the fuck are you talking about?” Jeremy’s voice suddenly cracked. “And can you be a little more quiet? My head hurts... ow.”

Michael’s heart pounded. His body then lurched forward, resulting in the IV tube painfully tugging back on his arm. The faint beeping from the heart monitor speed up.

All at once, the memories from the past day flooded into Michael.

“JEREMY!” Michael called, not caring how odd his voice sounded or how yelling worsened his headache.

Michael moved around to frantically glance around the hospital room, still failing to account for the tubes and wires stuck to his body.

“Ow! I-I didn’t say that! What the hell!” Jeremy shouted.

His heart pounded against his chest again. Jeremy wasn’t anywhere in the room, but the sound of his voice was _right there._  Then Michael glanced down at his unnaturally pale hands again. Of course.

“I said that!” Michael proclaimed more softly. “It’s me, Michael!”

“Uh, I think your name is _Tall Ass_ , or alternatively, Jeremiah Heere,” Rich corrected.

“WHY DO I KEEP ON SAYING THINGS! That’s NOT me... W-What the fuck! A-Am I possessed?” Jeremy said.

“Dude, you’re scaring me. You know, I heard people sometimes get messed up from their SQUIPs,” Rich said.

Michael felt his-- Jeremy’s-- _their?_ \-- stomach drop.

 _“What?”_ Jeremy gasped.

“Oh, I see how it is! Your ignoring game is SO HIGH that you are literally ignoring me when I _am_ you!” Michael shouted.

“Ugh. Spot on Michael. I miss him,” Jeremy sighed, wiping their sweaty palms on the papery hospital gown. “Anyway, what.... happened to y--”

“I’M! RIGHT! HERE! You know, I thought you were done with this!”

Jeremy shoved their head into their hands and groaned, fervently pulling at their hair. “O-Oh my god, Rich, I don’t know what’s going on!” A feeling of panic rose in their chest. “I-I-I.... really am going crazy. I know I really miss Michael... but _this_? Is it my SQUIP?”

“No clue. It could be a glitched SQUIP... but it’s most likely you’ve gone off the edge. Sorry, dude,” Rich answered.

“It REALLY is m-- never mind. Ignore that,” Michael began, stopping when he realized he was probably making whatever the hell was going on worse.

“Of course,” Jeremy muttered. A lump grew in their throat. He swallowed it back and the incoming sob. “I fucked up myself for life.”

“You’re not the only one.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened. “Your SQUIP did that? Those look like burns! Are those from shocks?!”

Rich’s eyes darted to one of his arms. “Fire burns.”

“It set you... on fire? _They can do that?_ ”

Jeremy’s obliviousness almost made Rich laugh. “Holy fuck, dude, where were you for the past few days? Bet that’s all they’re talking about. I mean...” Rich trailed off as his voice cracked. “I burned my best friend’s house down.”

“Christ,” Jeremy cringed. “Is anyone else hurt?”

“Jake’s legs are broken. Some people fainted, but yeah, they’re fine.”

“Where does Jake live now?”

 “He lives with Dustin Kropp now. Good guy.” Rich nodded and cleared his throat. “Anyway, what brought you here?”

“Uh...”

“I overheard the nurse and doctor say you fainted and that’s why you’re here. You must have amnesia. Did you hit your head?” Rich asked. No response. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t know. Amnesia.”

It was pretty clear it was the case at this point. This was something everyone in the room could agree with, but what wasn’t clear was how.

Jeremy turned around and spotted his phone on a bedside table. It was almost out of reach, but he was still able to stretch their arm enough to grab it. Once it was safely in their grip, Jeremy pressed the home button, manifesting the time, date, and a bunch of notifications against one of those abstract default backgrounds. It was like the SQUIP set Jeremy to a default factory setting, and not just because it may or may not have wiped his memory clean of recent events. Michael would have figured Jeremy replaced the picture of them goofing off at the fair, but with fanart of something he liked or a photo of him with some new friend, not replaced with nothing.

Their shaky thumb hovered over the illuminated screen until the screen blacked out.

“Is it really November?” Jeremy asked in awe.

 “Yeah, what’s the last date you remember?” Rich answered.

 “It was October.... towards the end. It was going to be Halloween.” Jeremy said. “I need to call Michael.”

Jeremy punched in Michael’s number and waited for the hollow ringing to pick up, but it never did. He waited the entire time, even for the voicemail greeting to finally end, but he hung up instead of leaving a voice message. He opted to send a text message instead, just as he always did.

“Wow. I have a lot of texts,” Jeremy remarked when he went to open his texts, despite not glancing at any of the previews.

Michael didn’t bother to take a look either, but it was at least a little reassuring that Jeremy still considered getting messages from two different people as “a lot”.

 

**Michael**

**10:47 PM, Today**

* * *

**You:** Michael... I know Ive didn’t talk to you for awhile. I honestly have no excuse.

**You:** I just really need to hear your voice right now,  
  
---  
  
 

Unsatisfied with the radio silence stretching a few moments, Jeremy scrolled up.

 

**Michael**

**5:03 PM, Today**

* * *

 

**Michael:** IM GOING 2 SUPPORT UR ASS WHETHER IF YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!

**Michael:** yo how do i buy tickets lol

**Michael:** sorry kinda high right now

**Michael:** DAMN dude you’re amazing!!!  <3

**Michael:** so is everyone else? Which is weird i thought they would all suck no offense

**Michael:** WAIT ARE THEY SQUIPPED

**Michael:** wait you can’t answer! you’re on stage!

**Michael:** lmfaoooo sorry (still high)

**5:24 PM, Today**

* * *

 

**You:** I NEED YOU

**You:** MDR

**You:** Motain dewwjidil RED

**You** : IAM SORRYTU

**You:** PLEA

**You:** SE

**You:** HELP

**You:** U WERW RIGHTABOut

**You:** EVERYTHNG

**You:** MICHAEL

**You:** TH

**You:** SQUIP IS TAKEING OVERTT

**You:** MY BO

**You:** Dy! pojkmn m

**You:** ILL NEVER INGORE U AGAINM

**You:** Also known as: what you are probably hoping for me to text you. L.o.l., you wish.

**You:** Stay out of my life. Loser.  
  
---  
  
  
  
Jeremy became more tense the further he read, and when he read the last messages, he winced hard enough to shudder.

“To be fair, I don’t think you actually wrote those last two messages,” Michael said.

“Was it the SQUIP?”

“Mmm, yeah, probably this time.”

“More like definitely. Who even writes ‘lol’ like that?” Jeremy laughed.

“Exactly!”

It took a few moments for Jeremy to realize what he was talking to. He tensed up again.

“Wait, I-- you’re--”

“Michael. I promise this is the reason why I didn’t pick up.”

“This is so weird,” Jeremy said, rubbing their temples. “I still don’t know if I believe it.”

For several brief moments, all three of them were silent. The humming of the machines and the beeping of the monitors filled the room and replaced the noise of their voices. Even the frantic walking and talking from the hallway, which seemed to be in a different plane of existence, started to leak in. It was nice not to have a demanding voice in your head.  
  
“You can’t hear my thoughts, can’t you?”  
  
“Nope,” Michael answered. “Were you trying to... ?”  
  
“Communicate? Yeah,” Jeremy replied, gluing their eyes to the peppered ceiling tiles. “Can you control anything?”  
  
Michael lifted their sore forearms off the stiff mattress to make their palms face their eyes. Then, he balled up their hands and relaxed them.  
  
Jeremy froze their widened their eyes in shock until they began to dry up. He blinked, watering their eyes, and gasped. “Holy fuck.”  
  
“I can feel everything you feel,” Michael admitted.  
  
“Wait, really?”  
  
“Yeah. I felt all of your anxiety and everything. Can you feel what I feel?”  
  
“I don’t know. It all kind of bleeds together, to be honest. So, if you are Michael, what happened to you? Like, are you sleeping? Or can you control both bodies at once like--”

“What the hell?” Rich interrupted. “No offense.”

Jeremy whipped his head around to face his former nightmare.

“Who is Michael anyway?”

“My best friend. You know, remember the guy who you always said was my boyfriend? You vandalized his backpack.”

Rich raised his eyebrows in realization. “Oh, him! Can’t remember what he looked like. At all. Weird, right? Maybe I have amnesia too!”

The door suddenly opened. A nurse stepped in, followed by a pants-clad Mr. Heere.

“Dad! You’re wearing pants!” Jeremy shouted  in shock, momentarily distracted.

Mr. Heere smiled. “Yeah.”

Jeremy shook his head and snapped back into the current situation. “Where is Michael?”

“Hi, Mr. Heere,” the nurse warmly greeted, actually referring to Jeremy. She seemed to be only a few years older than them. “I’m Angela,” she said, glancing down at her clipboard. “You just have to answer some questions and then you’re free to go. We just have to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said.

“What’s your name?”

“Jeremy Heere.”

“Do you know the date?”

“November 5th.”

“Okay, you’re good.”

Angela stepped away, allowing Mr. Heere to walk up to the bed. He leaned over and placed a hand on the frame, greeting Jeremy with a sad smile.

“Hey, buddy,” Mr. Heere said.

“Hi, Dad. How... are you?” Jeremy said.

“Me, I’m fine. It’s you who I’m worried about. What happened?”

“He fainted,” Angela interjected. “It’s most likely dehydration. It can get hot up there under those spotlights.”

“C-Can I take this off now?” Jeremy asked, looking down at the IV tube.

“Oh yeah, that, sorry,” Angela said as she removed it and then the cardiac monitor electrodes. When she finished, she clasped her hands together. “You can take off all those stickers too!”

Michael wondered why she said that as if Jeremy was seven and if those were Incredible Hulk stickers.

“Nevermind about that, what’s been happening with you for the past few months?” Mr. Heere asked as Jeremy tried to peel an electrode sticker off his skin. “You’ve been changing so much-- and you have been secretive about it all! And now you’re at the hospital! What’s going on?”

Jeremy paused and nervously looked up.

“Uh... I don’t...” Jeremy began.

“It’s a long story! I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Michael answered for him.

Before Mr. Heere could say anything else, Michael slowly climbed them out of the bed. After that, Jeremy put on the shirt his father gave him and walked into the hall, but not before quickly waving at Rich.

“Have you heard about Michael?” Mr. Heere asked once both of them were alone in the hallway.

Michael cringed at the reminder that he could be he dead.

“N... Not really,” Jeremy said.

Mr. Heere looked away into the horizon of the hall. Michael stared at him and desperately analyzed every detail of his face and body language.

“You saved his life. If you didn’t get that paramedic in the audience to act in time, his heart wouldn’t have been able to restart.”

Their heart pounded, in both relief and terror.

“Thank god,” Michael sighed.

“No, what the fuck!” Jeremy yelled. “His heart stopped?!”

Mr. Heere couldn’t bring himself to say “yes”, so he grimly nodded and hugged his son, but Jeremy was too lost in his thoughts to acknowledge it.

Jeremy stood there in a shocked silence for at least a minute, only looking at the linoleum floors.

“Would you like to visit him? We might be able to do that tomorrow. He should be in a more stable condition. Maybe he’ll wake up by then.”

“I want to visit him now.”

 

 

 

Jeremy stood there in silence for an indeterminate amount of time. Michael was out of it, too, because when he snapped back into reality, they were in the elevator.

They landed on the first floor. The elevator door opened and Mr. Heere walked out, bur the door started to close on the frozen Jeremy.

“How did that happen?” Jeremy asked as it closed on him.

He jabbed the ‘open-door’ button. The elevator seemed so claustrophobic, especially now and especially since Mr. Heere obviously did not hear him.

“How did that happen?!” Jeremy yelled while the door was opening again.

Mr. Heere rushed back in the elevator and grabbed Jeremy’s shoulder for support.

“Jeremy,” Mr. Heere answered. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about it except that it happened during the show.”

Before the door closed on Jeremy again, Mr. Heere guided him out the door.

 

* * *

 

“I want to tell you something,” Mr. Heere said, unknowingly awakening both of them.

“Yeah?” Jeremy drowsily asked.

He looked around his surroundings. They were in the car. It was impossible to tell where the car was because it was completely dark out and brightly lit inside the car.

“From now on, I’m deciding to be more of a dad,” Mr. Heere declared. “I’m sorry... for... y’know, not exactly being the parent you needed.”

Jeremy turned around and faced his dad.

“That’s great,” Jeremy said with a small but forced smile. “I love you, Dad.”

Mr. Heere was taken aback by shock, making Michael wonder how long it’s been since he heard that.

“I-I... love you too,” Mr. Heere said softly before looking away. “Get out of the car.”

“Um...?”

“My first demand to you as your new father,” Mr. Heere smiled as he nudged Jeremy. “We’re home.”

Jeremy opened the door, stepped into the driveway, and followed his dad into the house.

“Are you hungry?” Mr. Heere asked as they took off their shoes.

“O-Oh. Um. Not really,” Jeremy said.

Michael knew Jeremy was lying about the hunger because their stomach panged like crazy.

“Just kidding! I am SO ready for a feast!” Michael shouted.

Maybe it was shitty to take over Jeremy’s agency like that, but he was hungry! And it was equally shitty for Jeremy to force him to go hungry, so it probably evened out.

Michael then yelped from a painful pinch on his arm, because apparently Jeremy didn’t think it was even.

“You okay?” Mr. Heere asked.

They silently nodded.

“I can make... uh...”

Mr. Heere walked away into the kitchen. Jeremy followed him.

“Sorry,” Mr. Heere murmured as he looked through the cabinet. He opened the fridge and sighed. “I didn’t get groceries yet...”

“You know, that’s actually--”

Mr. Heere opened the freezer and perked up.

“You want pizza that’s _not_ leftovers?”

 

 

That was the worst veggie pizza Michael ever had in his life. It was a little weird to be eating from another person’s mouth, especially if that other person was aware of it. Actually, it was extremely weird and gross, not to mention painful. If Michael had a dime for every time they accidentally bit their tongue or cheek for chewing out of sync, he would have a dime for every time Jeremy ignored him for the past month. He was beginning to realize why Jeremy probably did not want to eat.

As they washed down the pizza with water, Jeremy stood up.

“I think I’m going to bed now,” Jeremy stated, then yawned. “Thanks for the food. Night, love you.”

Mr. Heere looked away from the dishes he was washing and smiled. “No problem. Love you too, kiddo.”

 

 

Jeremy shut the door as soon as he entered his room and immediately opened his laptop. He checked for Michael’s activity on Discord, Facebook, and even Twitter, despite that neither of them really ever used it. When he found nothing, he slammed the laptop shut. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Then, he stood up and began pacing.

“I can’t believe any of this,” Jeremy muttered. He grabbed a hat on his chair and then a coat. “You can’t be in a coma. I can’t shake the feeling that I can just walk to your house... and you’ll be there.”

“Please don’t bother my moms,” Michael said.

Jeremy winced mid-pace. When Michael realized what he just said, he cringed too.

 _“Your_ moms? You’re not Michael,” Jeremy snapped.

“I thought you believed me now!”

“Well, I don’t. It’s... not even possible! You’re just a messed up part of me!”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but SQUIPs seemed impossible too.”

Jeremy slowly sat down on his bed.

“You think this is from the SQUIP?”

“It’s really fucking weird and it sucks a lot, so it fits.”

Suddenly, a buzz came from their pocket, making their skin jump. Michael knew that reaction was from Jeremy because he sure never was that jumpy from a text notification. He got the phone out, which was still buzzing. Jeremy answered the call.

“Jeremy?”

“Yeah... hi?” Jeremy answered.

“It’s Christine. How are you? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah.... I’m fine. Um, I’m out of the hospital now. Sorry for not answering your texts.”

“I-It’s totally fine! I understand. You’ve been through a lot.”

Jeremy swallowed. “Yeah..."

“Do you want to talk about it? Or anything else, if you want to.”

“Thank you, Christine... I... um...” Jeremy began. Michael felt their throat tighten. “I don’t know what actually happened.”

 _“You don’t know what happened?”_ Christine gasped.

Jeremy stayed silent.

“Did you hit your head when you fainted?” Christine asked. “I don’t think amnesia is a side effect of the SQUIP because I recall everything. I still remember how it felt.”

“Be right back,” Jeremy said in a cracked voice, and then he covered the phone with his hand. _“She had a SQUIP too?! How many people had one?!”_ he whispered to Michael.

 _“A fuck ton,”_ Michael whispered back.

Jeremy returned to the call. “Back.”

 “Shut up,” Christine snapped.

“Um...”

“No! I’m sorry, ugh... Jeremy. That wasn’t to you!”

 “Is everything okay?”

“It’s my SQUIP,” Christine said. “She won’t shut up!” 

“I thought they were all gone now.”

“They’re... no, I’m not saying that! They are... UGH... not controlling us anymore but can still talk to us. Well, mine can, and she is being particularly annoying right now... sorry, Jeremy. I can’t talk anymore. My head hurts.”

 The call abruptly ended. Jeremy fell back on his bed and sighed. He placed his arm over his eyes and lied in silence for a few minutes until he began sobbing. Because he was exhausted, the sobbing was stopped when he fell asleep in the midst of it.


End file.
